Eyes Meet
by Tianis
Summary: Sequel to "Angel Eyes". Horatio can't forget. Has she? Can she? What happens when forgetting is impossible?
1. Anniversary

**Eyes Meet**

**One: Anniversary**

The sea spray salted his face and brushed through his hair like a lover's fingers. Brown eyes surveyed the empty horizon with an air of one who had seen it all. The ship bucked and swayed beneath him, roiling over the darkened seas like a frightened animal. He took a deep lungful of sea air – the fresh sharpness of it bringing him from his thoughts to the present. This was not a time for careless memories. They were approaching the coast of France. He needed his wits about him.

Horatio Hornblower went below to his cabin, trying to distract himself from… himself, he supposed. He was the greatest danger to his own health sometimes. He had barely sat down when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter." He announced wearily. Lieutenant William Bush entered and bowed, before regarding his captain with concern.

"Horatio…" He began hesitantly.

"Don't worry William; I'll be on deck shortly." Horatio managed to say breezily, forcing a smile. Bush shook his head.

"Horatio, I don't mind taking us in myself, if you want time to rest." The captain looked sharply at his friend.

"I am perfectly well, thank you, Mr Bush." The formal title reminded Bush of his place, but he couldn't stay quiet.

"With all due respect, it's been three years… you haven't once rested. And, today of all days, I can understand if you want to –"

"I want to do nothing of the sort, William!" Horatio snapped angrily. "I do not want to be reminded of the date, or the time nor anything of that matter. Now, if you will excuse me." He stormed past the lieutenant back on deck, forcing down the burning feelings in his chest. Bush was right… today he needed time to himself more than any other day. It had been three years to the day since he last saw Elizabeth. His heart ached and yet sang at her name, her face burned into his thoughts. He was a slave to her memory, and loathed and loved it all at once.

The coast of Brest loomed slowly into view, growing and stretching until it filled the horizon and swept across the ocean towards them. As they dropped anchor, Horatio explained to the crew what the plan was, and oversaw the loading of the boats. As the sand crunched beneath the prows, he gulped down the air that assailed him – pine needles and tree sap, sea and sand. It was a heady mixture, filled with memories. The crack of gunshot, a woman's cry of pain, the snap of undergrowth beneath aggressive feet. He shut his eyes and leapt into the knee-high shallows, splashing to the shore and ignoring the clinging wetness of his breeches.

"Mr Bush." He said, stirring himself.

"Yessir." The answer was prompt and abrupt. Expectant and efficient, just like his lieutenant.

"We will take our parties up either side of this beach; you will take yours on the south side. Meet back here before nightfall."

"Yessir." Bush hurried to act out his orders, and soon the beach was cleared of all but marines and boats. Horatio forced everything to the back of his mind, save the thoughts on the expedition. It was all that mattered, all that he cared about… His duty…

But in the camp firelight that night, he could not shake her. Her eyes… they were a rich blue, flecked with gold. Expensive, spirited, beautiful. Her skin was soft and supple, pale and freckly on her face, shoulders and knees, smooth as marble. He stared hard at the flames of the fire. Her hair was a sheet of ivory gold – delicately pale finery. Her livid red scar had shone beneath the moon shadows, her long, slender neck arched back to receive his lips… Her soft, sweetened mouth had whispered his name, the sound of honey and heaven's bells. She was an angel… Three years. Three long, hardened years of unmerciful torment. Of pain, grief, suffering… Wondering and craving. Her last words had haunted his dreams every night since then. Her face echoed in the hollow reaches of this shell he called his body. _You were my angel_.

"And you were mine." He whispered to the sea mists and the sleeping forms around him. He hugged his knees, staring at the rubble of the campfire. "And you were always mine."


	2. Return

**Two: Return**

And so followed four more days, camping on the beach beneath the hot sun, tracking and hunting in the forests about the coastline, ever remembering, ever forgetting. Horatio silenced his thoughts with a fierce work ethic that frightened and mystified the crew. Even Bush seemed thrown by the aggressiveness of the captain's enthusiasm. It was on the morning of the fifth day that it happened. Horatio's party had strayed further north-east to see what they could find when they heard an outcry and explosion of guns. Wondering if it was Bush, Horatio beckoned to them and led them towards the sound and a loping run. Darting around a thick tree, Horatio was bowled over backwards by a black figure. Both leapt to their feet and cocked their pistols. And then they froze. Horatio stared with a sickening, lurching horror into his past. But, no… there was something wrong with the picture. It was _La Sombra_, the black clothes and wide-brimmed hat and silk mask, but the person filling it was all different. Broader, stronger… taller.

"_Monsieur _'Ornblowurr!" Cried a distinctly different voice. He felt as if he were about to be sick. "Oh 'eaven's above! We zought you wurr dead, _monsieur_." From nearby came French shouts, and the _La Sombra_ imposter glanced over his shoulder.

"Who..?" Horatio couldn't control his tongue to speak.

"Quickly, come wiz me and I will ansurr your questions as I can." He beckoned, and Horatio obediently followed, unsure of what to do. They were led to a small cluster of trees, disguising a ramshackle hut, and closely guarded by soot-painted men. _La Sombra _showed them in, and Horatio and his party managed to seat themselves in the modest house. Removing his hat, the man rambled slowly, fixing a kettle above the fire for tea. "I am afraid you crossed a raiding party, _monsieur_. If we 'ad not met, you would 'ave come across some _trés_ angry republicans." He smiled, and untied his mask, revealing a worn, French face. "Bernard Mayez." He held out a hand and Horatio numbly shook it, opening and closing his mouth inanely. "I suspect you 'ave questions, no?" Bernard sat on the chair opposite the captain and handed him a chipped mug, full of foul-tasting tea. Horatio took a few sips before managing to say:

"Yes. I thought you were killed that day…"

"Alas, no. I was not in ze party. My bruzzer…" Bernard swallowed hard. "Zey were all killed. _La Sombra_…" He frowned. "Before I continue, _monsieur_, do I 'ave your discretion, and ze discretion of your men?"

"Of course."

"Zen you know of _La Sombra_'s true _identité_."

"Yes." Horatio's throat constricted at the reminder of Elizabeth.

"Well, she is alive, as you know. She wrote letturrs, telling us of your bravery and ze occurrences." He bit his lip. "She could not come back, she said."

"And you have taken her place. Become the new _La Sombra_."

"No." Bernard answered fiercely. "I will never replace 'er. She will always be _La Sombra_. I am an actor." He shrugged. "She asked for our forgiveness for abandoning us, and asked for me to replace 'er. I could not deny 'er zat wish." Horatio placed down the mug.

"I cannot stay. I must get back to the beach."

"But, of course. We will accompany you so far. Also, we can tell you much of zis area." They all rose and bowed to one another, then Bernard caught Horatio's arm as they made to leave. "Just one request, _monsieur_. I would ask if you would look for 'er. And 'ave wurd sent – zat she is well."

"Of course." He couldn't do it… he simply wouldn't allow himself that pain any longer. But how could he deny the desperate face? They had loved her fiercely and loyally, and all they wanted was to know she was well.

They found all the parties at the beach – they had heard the guns and returned to make a stand, if they should so need to. Horatio bade farewell to Bernard, who melted away untraceably, and ordered for the boats to return to the _Hotspur_.

"Set a course for home, please, Mr Bush." He ordered his lieutenant, and watched the fading coastline from the ship, his thoughts a mixture of grief and confusion. He told Bush to come with him to his cabin, and they sat at the table in a brief silence.

"Sir?" Bush began hesitantly. "What happened?" Horatio rubbed his face as if it would clear his thoughts.

"I met _La Sombra_ again." He stated shortly, and his lieutenant looked taken aback.

"But, sir… was it..?"  
"No. Another. Bernard, one of her followers." Horatio's eyes were full of desolation. "He asked me to see her again, make sure she's happy." There was silence.

"And will you?"

"No." He replied decisively. "I won't do it again."

"Perhaps… perhaps, it would be best if you _did_ see her, Horatio. She's haunted you for three years; surely it's time to face it."

"I can't." The captain's voice cracked. "I can't bear to see her… not with _him_." Bush pondered on this a moment. Of course… Daniel. It was not that Elizabeth had broken his heart; it was that Daniel had intervened. Star-crossed lovers, he mused. And thus, Horatio's spirit had been broken, his heart torn. The men saw it, he saw it, even the Admiral saw it – Horatio was a shell of his former self.


	3. Archie

**Three: Archie**

The streets of Portsmouth were brimming with activity, and Lady Elizabeth Minton could feel the familiar tugs of panic and claustrophobia tightening in her chest. She had suffered from panic attacks for nearly three years now – and was almost resentful of crowds. She handed another dress-box to one of her servants and turned to look at the maid a little way behind her.

"Jennifer." She called. "I think we'll go home now. Please hail a cab." The maid bobbed a curtsey and stepped nearer to the road to call for a horse-pulled cart to take them back to the manor. Elizabeth clasped her shivering hands in front of her to hide the shaking. She took a few deep breaths of cloying dockside air, but instantly regretted it. She inhaled the smell of sea salt, and it caused her heart to falter. She looked around for distraction. Her young son crouched nearby, playing with a little wooden toy ship. She frowned briefly – his fascination with all things nautical made her nervous… perhaps she should never have made that naval button into a necklace for him.

………………………

Horatio could feel Bush's presence ever beside him, but chose to ignore it. He was in desperate search of a good, cheap tavern that sold beer long into the night and asked no questions. He had suffered his silence for nearly two months since encountering Bernard, and Horatio could stand no more of his lieutenant's disapproval. He wouldn't go to see her… He couldn't do it. He went to sidestep a boy, but froze to the spot at a familiar sound.

"Archie, come here please." No… No… It couldn't possibly… His eyes betrayed him and looked slowly upwards, and he felt his heart shatter into sharp pieces in his chest. She was exquisite, just as he remembered. She wore a cream dress with blue pattern, and a matching hat tied under her chin, covering her beautiful blonde hair. Her eyes met his momentarily, as the boy he had tried to step around looked up and grinned at him, before tottering over to Elizabeth. She bent down and scooped him into her arms. She looked away. "Jennifer." She called desperately. "Hurry with that cab, it's frightfully cold and I don't want Archie to catch a sniff."

"Yes ma'am." Replied the maid and waved down a cart. Horatio stepped forward to go to her, but felt a hand on his elbow. Bush. Elizabeth disappeared with her son and two servants into the cab, and the dapple-grey horse snorted as it pulled away, snatching her from him. He whirled on Bush furiously.

"Why wouldn't you let me go to her?" His lieutenant looked placating as he replied:

"You are in no state to any such thing. Besides, it would be far better to visit her at the house." Horatio started to argue, but closed his mouth again. Perhaps Bush was right… in the middle of the street was hardly the correct reunion.

He found the nearest tavern – not caring for the price or reputation – and ordered himself a strong whisky. As he paid, a scruffy-looking messenger boy darted in and looked around fretfully before his restless eyes alighted on Horatio and Bush. He crossed the room and cleared his throat, his eyes twitching around the room again. Horatio stared in plain disconcertion.

"Captain Horatio Hornblower?"

"Yes."

"Message from the Lady Minton." He held out a crumpled slip of paper and disappeared before Horatio could even tip him. He unfolded it and read carefully the curling handwriting.

_I hope this finds you, the messengers are so untrustworthy and I wouldn't presume to think that they would search the whole city for you – though that is what I asked. The Earl is away on business for three days. Come to the house tonight. E._

"Well, what does it say?" Bush asked, unable to hide his eagerness. Horatio crumpled the paper in his hand, staring into his whisky.

"I am going to visit her tonight."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Horatio paid the cab-driver and looked up at the house, feeling the gravel crunch beneath his feet as he approached the accusing-looking door. He knocked nervously, wondering if he should sneak around the back like he had before. But before he could dart away, a butler opened the door.

"Good evening, Mr Hornblower." The butler announced, bowing. "The Lady Elizabeth awaits your presence in the porch. Please, follow me." Horatio obeyed silently, shocked at the use of his name. This visit would be a poor kept secret from Daniel! The Earl's face was in every painting in the hallway, the beady eyes watching Horatio suspiciously. The butler opened the door to the porch and bowed before leaving. Elizabeth sat in a chair, looking through the french doors onto the garden in the fading light. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she had changed to a simple green dress, her hair loose down her back. She looked around as he entered, his shaking hands hidden behind his back and his lips pursed forcefully shut. She rose, and hand briefly touching her chest and then dropping to her side. Her blue eyes were bright.

"Horatio." She whispered, and he felt as if he had just reached heaven. He had waited over three years to hear that voice say his name once more. He bowed.

"M'lady, you asked for my presence."

"Enough with formalities!" She snapped angrily. "Come and sit down, Horatio, I've not waited three years just to hear you simper another ghastly '_m'lady_'." He hid a smile – her spirit was how he remembered it. He obliged, and sat in a chair opposite her at an angle, so he too could see the sun set over the dock. There was silence. Complete, comfortable silence.

"Three years, Horatio."

"I know." She fiddled with the threads of her dress in her lap, staring out over the garden. His eyes never left her face.

"So much has changed." She took a deep breath. "And I thought that after three years… this had changed… that I would have forgotten you… grown to care for Daniel. Maybe not love him, but at least like him." She turned and looked at him desperately. "And yet, everyday, I wish I had gone with you that night. And when I saw you again… I felt alive…" She took a deep shuddering breath and looked at her hands. Horatio had nothing to say.

"I've never forgotten you." He stated simply. More silence. "I saw Bernard." Her head shot up.

"Yes? How is he?"

"Well. They want to know you are safe and happy. They all wish you would go back." She smiled.

"I am afraid that that may never happen now. Events rather, _overtook_ me." She managed a shy smile and blush.

"Your son." Horatio felt a burning grief in him again. Daniel's son. It killed him to think of them together – coupled on the very same bed as he had… he forced himself away from those traitorous thoughts.

"Yes. Archie has been my rock through all this."

"Archie?" Horatio was curious as to why he wasn't a 'Daniel Junior'.

"I couldn't very well name him after his father, could I?" Her voice was almost derisive.

"Why not? I'm sure Daniel would have been thoroughly pleased." Elizabeth chuckled.

"He was rather bemused at Archie's name."

"Then, why did you name him Archie?"

"After Archibald Kennedy." Horatio felt as if his whole body had fallen into ice. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Elizabeth looked at him with her head tilted slightly and an amused glint in her eye.

"Archie Kennedy?"

"A friend of yours, I believe."

"But, he was denounced…" He spluttered. "It would be a disgraceful namesake…"

"Oh bull!" The oath made Horatio sit back in surprise. "Archie Kennedy was a brave, honorable and loyal friend, courageous to the end." She tilted her chin stubbornly. "And don't contradict me for the sakes of politics, Horatio."

"I don't understand… I never spoke to you of Archie."

"Perhaps not when you were awake. But your dreams give you away, Horatio." She smiled softly at him, and in a sudden gesture, rested her hand over one of his. He looked down at it with wonder. Of course… He had dreamt of Archie whilst asleep beside her that night. Archie telling him he was happy for Horatio… Archie's dying words and his own replies.

"I still don't follow." He added cautiously. Elizabeth took a deep breath and rose.

"Then I think you should come with me."

She led him through another room off the porch to a small playroom. Jennifer the maid was there, and so was little Archie, dressed for bed.

"Archie, sweetheart." Elizabeth called softly, and the baby tripped over to her, where she lifted him into her arms and turned back to Horatio. Archie followed his mother's gaze, looking at him seriously through deep brown eyes. "Horatio. I would like you to meet your son."


End file.
